


you might as well just end up in my arms

by MadAlien



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Flufftober, Henry Tries to Cook, Law Student Alex, M/M, Overuse of the Word Frittata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadAlien/pseuds/MadAlien
Summary: The only way Alex Claremont-Diaz can be convinced to eat a questionable frittata is if Henry was the one to make it for him.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 21
Kudos: 155





	you might as well just end up in my arms

**Author's Note:**

> A rogue contribution for Flufftober in which I just chose a prompt I liked (#22: "Do you trust me?") and posted it whenever the hell I felt like it. 
> 
> Title from Ben Rector's "It Would Be You."

A tremendous crash resonated from the kitchen, drawing Alex’s attention away from the textbook he’d been engrossed in for the last several hours. He could hear Henry grumbling under his breath as he presumably tried to right the pots and pans he’d knocked over, more clangs drowning out most of the irritated mutters. 

“H?” Alex called from his desk in the living room. “Everything alright?” 

“Yes!” Henry responded, trying (and failing) to sound breezy and unflustered. “Yes, darling, go back to your studying.” 

“Okay,” Alex said, amused. He refocused on his coursework, but it’d be a lie to say that at least some of his attention wasn’t attuned to the sounds coming from the kitchen. It’s not that he didn’t trust Henry in the kitchen, necessarily, it’s just that … well, Alex was the better cook in the relationship, to put it kindly. But when Alex had made noises about taking a study break to make dinner about twenty minutes previous, Henry looked so sweet and earnest as he hustled him right back to his desk, promising he’d take care of it so Alex could finish studying for tomorrow’s exam. 

Not two more minutes passed before Alex heard the tell-tale sound of an egg splatting against the floor, followed by a quiet “Damn it.” Biting back a laugh, he stood and wandered to the kitchen, leaning against the doorway to watch a flustered Henry wiping egg goop off of the floor. The kitchen was a bit of a disaster, with half a dozen bowls of various sizes scattered across every flat surface, a rogue onion teetering on the edge of the counter in danger of joining the egg on the floor, raw bacon piled in a cold frying pan on the stove, and a bag of shredded cheese abandoned on top of the freezer. 

Henry straightened up, a mass of paper towels in his fist, blond hair adorably disheveled. “You’re supposed to be studying!” He said upon seeing Alex standing there. 

“I got a bit distracted by the chaos going on in here,” Alex said with a teasing grin. 

“It’s not chaos!” Henry said petulantly, tossing the paper towels into the trash and knocking the onion onto the floor in the process, prompting Alex to burst out laughing. Henry scowled as he picked the onion up and put it inside of one of the many bowls on the counter so that it wouldn’t fall off again. “It’s just reading and following directions! It shouldn’t be this hard,” he whined. 

Still laughing, Alex sidled up to Henry and hugged him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck. “You are _very_ good at following directions, baby,” he whispered, intentionally laying the innuendo on thick. 

“Stop sexualizing my frittata!” 

“Mmm frittata …sounds good.” 

“It’s fancier than a scramble, but … it’s just eggs, so I thought it would be easy enough?” He said, sounding a bit sad and defeated. 

Alex could practically hear Henry’s pout, and he kissed his neck again before spinning him around to kiss him properly. “You’re doing so well, baby. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Henry fought a smile, but lost that battle, the praise brightening his features immediately. He wrapped his arms around Alex, holding him tightly for a few minutes before shooing him away with a flap of his hand. “Go study, love. I’ve got this. I managed to follow royal protocol while pretending to be straight for over twenty years; I can handle some eggs.” 

Alex took a moment to admire Henry’s long, elegant fingers waving him away before leaving the kitchen and settling back at his desk, the smell of cooking bacon wafting into the room.

“Alex?” Henry called tentatively a few minutes later. 

“Yeah?”

“Can any of these pans go in the oven?”

“Yeah, use the cast iron.” 

“The big, heavy one, right?” 

Alex smiled. “Yes, that’s the one.” 

“Thanks, love.”

Alex refocused on the text in front of him, only to be interrupted once more not five minutes later. 

“Alex, this seems like an awful lot of spinach.” Henry sounded far more distressed than one should be about leafy greens. 

“It’ll wilt down, H. Just follow the recipe.” He paused before continuing a bit nervously. “You _are_ following a recipe, right?” 

“Yes,” came Henry’s indignant reply. “Of course I’m following a recipe, Alex. I’m not a heathen.” 

Henry managed the rest of the frittata preparation without asking Alex any more questions, but by this point Alex had given up on studying and was insead amusing himself by eavesdropping on Henry’s frustrated sighs and the way he kept muttering the instructions under his breath as he completed various steps.

When Henry called to Alex that dinner was ready, Alex shut his books with what some might say was an unnecessary amount of flourish, shuffled some papers just for good measure and joined his love at their small kitchen table. 

The frittata looked … moderately edible. It wasn’t quite as golden brown as one would normally expect a frittata to be, and the middle was suspiciously wet. 

Henry sliced into it, placing a large portion on Alex’s plate, which Alex eyed warily. 

“Alex,” Henry said very seriously, a twinkle in his eye. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, uh, I just don’t know if I trust this frittata.“

Henry rolled his eyes, a short laugh escaping. “Just eat the damn frittata.” 

Alex did so, eating with his left hand so that he could tangle the fingers of his right with Henry’s, a habit that June had once scoffed at and called “disgustingly domestic.” It went down better than Alex had expected; it was mostly cooked through, except at the very center, and had a sufficient amount of cheese, veggies, and bacon, though it could have benefitted from a healthy measure of salt and maybe some paprika. But Alex didn’t suggest any of these improvements, aware that Henry was watching him a bit nervously, almost shyly, despite his earlier show of bravado. 

He ate the whole helping, save for one part that was truly quite runny—Alex loved Henry quite a lot, but not enough to risk salmonella—and then wiggled his way into Henry’s lap, knocking the fork out of Henry’s hand. 

“I wasn’t finished eating,” Henry said, amused. 

“I’m aware. But you were too far away.” 

“I was sitting right next to you. You were holding my hand.” 

“I’m aware,” Alex repeated, nuzzling into Henry’s neck. 

“Okay,” Henry said, a soft smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and rested his cheek on Alex’s wild curls. 

“Thank you for making dinner,” Alex said. “It was really sexy.” 

Henry laughed. “Me making the dinner or the frittata itself?” 

Alex burrowed further into Henry, and Henry could feel Alex’s lips curl into a smile against his neck. “Both.”


End file.
